Reflections
by Kazaera
Summary: Sirius sits near the ocean and reflects after escaping from Azkaban.
1. Default Chapter

It isn't raining.  
That's the first thing I notice. Somehow I always imagined it would be raining. It was   
raining when I was outside for the last time. As if the sky was crying, crying for   
James and Lily. It must have rained at their funeral, too. I didn't attend. James would   
have been angry, that I didn't even attend his funeral. But I didn't get to. I was already   
in – don't think of that.  
I remembered that it rained. I didn't remember the rain itself, though. What does rain   
feel like? Is it wet? Wet like the ocean I just crawled out of? I don't remember. Too   
many happy memories connected with rain, I guess. I lost almost all my happy   
memories in Azk- don't think of it..  
But it isn't raining. The sky is clear, the sun is sinking into the sea, tinting the entire   
ocean blood-red. Lily would have liked to see this. She was always painting scenes   
like this. She loved to paint.  
I'm on a beach. A sandy beach. Not too many sandy beaches in England, and those   
are usually swarming with tourists – when it's not raining, and it isn't. I guess I   
should leave soon. It's so late that the beach is empty, but tomorrow the people will   
start arriving. Can't be here then.  
The wind's getting stronger. It's whipping the sand up, so that it glides over the   
ground like smoke or fog, golden in the sunset. James would have loved this weather.   
He loved all kinds of odd weather. I remember – yes! I remember! – a time, back in   
out third year it must have been, when there was a bad accident in Charms. The skies   
above Hogwarts poured bright green peppermint-flavored rain for three days. Most of   
the students fled inside and hid from the Ministry wizards who'd come. The Ministry   
was very upset, what with all the Muggles needing Memory Charms and all. But   
James – James stood outside and laughed. We all thought he was crazy.  
That memory is tinged with sadness, the knowledge of what happened later. All my   
memories of James are bittersweet now. But I'll gladly take the bitter with the sweet,   
I've only had the bitter for twelve years. All the bad memories – small ones, like   
Professor McGonagall giving us detention for some prank or another, or large ones.   
Foremost among the latter is the memory of that awful day, Halloween twelve years   
ago. It's branded in my memory now, I've relived it so often. And then there is   
another horrid memory… me talking to James about my /brilliant/ idea of using Peter   
as Secret Keeper. He didn't want to, in the beginning. I convinced him… That   
memory nearly cost me my sanity. The knowledge that I wasn't completely innocent   
of James' death, although I /was/ innocent of the crimes they'd imprisoned me for. As   
a matter of fact, maybe it /did/ cost me my sanity. After all, don't all mad people think   
they're sane? But then, if I think I'm insane, I have to be sane, right?  
Stop it stop it stop it. You did /not/ survive, sanity intact – yes it /is/ intact – for all   
this time to drive yourself mad now, Sirius. Go. Stop Wormtail, find Harry. That was   
his name, wasn't it? Harry? Too many happy memories connected with that.  
I turn to go, but am riveted by the ocean. The ocean. I never saw it when I was a child   
– odd when you're living on an island, right? But I never did. First time I saw it was   
with James, Remus and /Peter/, in the summer after our fifth year. I was fascinated,   
and I am now. The ocean is so… eternal. Unchanging. The waves were pounding at   
the shore before I was born, and they will be long after I'm dead. Odd, that sensation   
of being finite. But comforting, too, after Az- that place. Somewhere, somewhen, the   
waves are washing up at a sandy beach where James, Remus and I are talking,   
laughing, joking, carefree. Somewhere, somewhen, they're washing against the stony   
cliffs of Azk- /don't think of it!/  
I wish I was like the ocean. The ocean doesn't cry. It doesn't scream. It doesn't feel   
despair, it doesn't feel grief, sorrow, pain … Perhaps later, in a few years, I'll change   
my mind. Perhaps then, I'll feel happiness again – what is that, anyway? I can't   
remember… But for now, I wish I was like the ocean.  
I turn and leave. 


	2. Disclaimer... grr...

All right, I did WAY too much posting on FictionAlley. With its automatic disclaimer.*Sigh* Why do I get the feeling this site does not like me? Having to edit every fic you post twice. Bad enough when the fics aren't seven in number. Happy joy. BTW, the weather in this fic is not invented. I really saw weather like this on vacation a few weeks back. One of the coolest things I've ever experienced. Disclaimer (borrowing from FA): This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 


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